Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter franchise or any characters from it.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hellsing franchise or any characters from it.

All OC's have been created by me and as such I own the rights to them.

This story is a work of fan creation and will not be used for monetary gain.

"Example" – Normal speech

"Example" – Latin

"EXAMPLE" – Anger

'Example' – Thought/Exemplum

"Example" – Other languages as expressed

*Example* - Sound Effect

/ - P.O.V. change

Weapon of the Cross

Chapter 16: Got Wood?

14:05 GMT Gringotts, Diagon Alley, London

"Come on child, why don't you just tell us why we can smell the blood on you." The goblin whispered into his ear from behind him.

Harry just looked straight ahead, one eye swollen and blood dripping from the cuts on his face, he refused to turn and look at the creature that was just behind him. Thither goblin was also behind him and seemed to be sharpening something from the sound of scraping metal.

"I'm sure that a human such as you didn't even know that the blood of a dead goblin clings to his killer. And when the elder gets here we'll be able to tell where he was from your victim."

Harry continued to focus on the day before arriving at Gringots. Who knew if these twisted creatures had mind readers amongst them. better not to think about that winter two years ago.

/

Blood…Snow…Screams

The dry snap of automatic fire.

/

No think only of that day.

Focus on the smell.

/

The pale wood in his hand had a distinctive smell, one he could easily identify as he held the stick between his fingers, Cedar always had a smell all of its own.

And this one was?

*sniff*

Ah yes Cedar of Lebanon.

He couldn't help but smile.

But despite the warm feeling running through him there was some kind of pressure building behind his eyes.

"Excuse me mister potter"

Harry turned to the creature beside him, it was holding a handkerchief towards him with one hand and rubbing under its nose with the other, reaching up to the same spot his face he could feel the warm stickiness that could only be blood. Olivander stood there, unblinking eyes focused on the wand in the young boys hand. Harry reached for the square of cloth while placing the rod back in its case, the pressure subsided slowly to an almost physical itch at the forefront of his cranium.

The wand crafter kept his eyes firmly on the wooden object, his face held a pensive expression and he continuously licked his lips as he tried to form words.

"An… intriguing choice Mr Potter." He finally croaked. "Most intriguing, I hadn't thought I'd see that wand sold in my lifetime, but sold it will be, 8 inches cedar wood with one of the oldest unicorn hairs ever harvested."

Before he could react his wand was boxed, thrust into his hands and he was shoved out the door turning back he tried to open the door but the door seemed to be sealed to the frame. He moved to the window to observe his future teacher and the mad old man who seemed to be gesticulating wildly. He grimaced a little with the angle they were standing at he had no hope of remembering any of the lip motions necessary to show a lip reader. Harry knew this was a chance to check the various stores and products for later reference.

His eyes floated to the giant white building at the end of alley. Maybe that would be the best place to start.

A/N

Good lord it been a while for this fic.

This chapters terrible but it's been hanging around for almost half a decade so I wanted it out of the way so I could move past it.

Expect another better chapter within the month.